


Triles Collection

by CanaryWidow



Category: Degrassi
Genre: M/M, triles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryWidow/pseuds/CanaryWidow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of Triles drabbles I have written on tumblr. You can prompt me at captainofsterekandolicity or visit me at my Triles blog, thetrilesnetwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Big Brother Sees All

Miles squirmed under Owen’s intense glare. There were glasses of lemonade on the table, but no one had reached for them yet. “Tris?” He called, not taking his eyes off of the burly man that hadn’t stopped giving him I-will-kill-you-with-my-bare-hands looks since he stumbled upon Miles and his “baby” brother on the couch in a very…um, compromising position.

            “One second,” his boyfriend called from the other room. “I’m still trying to reach my parents.”

            Owen spoke up. “Take all the time you need, Tris,” he told his brother affectionately. Then, he redirected his glare on Miles, and his voice hardened. “I’ll be here _all_ summer.”

            Miles briefly wondered if this was some form of cruel karma from the universe (damn it, he knew he should’ve treated Chewy nicer when he discovered he was dating Frankie).

            “So,” Owen started. “You’re dating my brother.”

            “It would appear that way, yes,” Miles replied.

            Owen nodded, absorbing this tidbit of information. “You…like-like him, right? You’re not using him until Megan or whatever her name decides she wants you back?”

            Miles shook his head. “No, I would never do that to Tristan. But…” he sighed, remembering Chewy’s words from that night. Owen raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. “I’m not a nice person. I’m scared I’ll hurt him. But Tris is different. He…gets me. He understands me. I feel good around him.”

            Owen’s face softened a fraction of a degree. “You really like him,” he stated. “But if you hurt him—“

            “I’ll hate myself more than you’ll hate me,” Miles finished, glancing down at his hands.

            “ _Possibly_ more than I’ll hate you,” he added with a dangerous grin that set Miles on edge. “Just take care of my brother. He’s a good person, and he deserves the best this godforsaken town can offer.”

            Miles smiled to himself. “I know, and I’m going to try my hardest to give him everything he deserves.”

            Owen clapped his hands together and grabbed one of the glasses of lemonade from the table. Miles visually relaxed and accepted the glass Owen offered to him. “Cheers. Now with that aside, let’s talk about safe sex.”

            Miles sputtered, sending lemonade flying.

 


	2. Wooing and Sexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every relationship has minor setbacks. Triles just happens to have the “minor” setback of Miles’ sexuality.

Miles angrily closed a window on his Google Chrome, pushing himself away from his desk. Visually frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, a million thoughts running through his mind. Spying his swim trunks across the room, he impulsively threw them on and crept downstairs for a late night swim, despite the fact it was nearly October.

            He dived into the pool, the water crashing all around him as he propelled himself to the other side of the pool. He swam laps mechanically, the process coming easily to him like eating or breathing. He resurfaced after his twentieth lap, gasping for air.

            “You want to talk about it?” Winston asked from his seat on the poolside chairs, causing Miles to jump.

            “Jesus, don’t sneak up on a guy like that, Chewy,” Miles replied, attempting to sound nonchalant (even if his heart was racing a hundred miles a minute).

            Winston looked unapologetic. “I’ve been here since the fifth lap.”

            “I thought you left after Frankie left for her sleepover,” asked a dripping wet Miles, stepping out of the pool.

            “No, I went to get a pizza and then home to tell my mom I was sleeping over. Remember?” Winston handed him a towel.

            “Sorry, I’ve had a lot of things on my mind,” Miles apologized, wrapping the towel around his shoulders, shivering.

            “Hey, I’m still your friend,” said Winston, concerned. “You can tell me what’s bothering you.”

            Miles sat in silence for a moment. “It’s Tristan,” he admitted. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s been amazing, supportive, and so patient. But that’s the problem.”

            “Supportive, amazing boyfriend—I don’t see the problem with that,” Winston stated.

            “I don’t know who I am, Chewy. I’m been doing some research, and I’m honestly confused more than ever. There are so many labels that I can and can’t fit under.”

            Winston nodded along, listening like a good friend would. “Who says you have to fit under a label? Doesn’t Tristan like you how you are? Like…you?” He gestured to Miles, making the boy smile slightly.

            “He does, but…something happened today. And I don’t think being me is enough.”

\-- _Eight hours earlier_ —

_Miles was leaning against the wall across from Tristan’s French III class, waiting for the bell to ring and his boyfriend to emerge from the classroom. Finally, it did, and Tristan left the class, but failed to see Miles waiting for him. Miles noticed he was going a different way and caught up to him. He put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder, wanting to weave his hand through his instead. But they both knew he wasn’t ready for that level of PDA. “Hey, you ready for lunch? They’re serving those veggie pita burgers you love.”_

_Tristan smiled. “I can’t. I promised Simpson I would show a new student the ropes of Degrassi. He transferred here after some homophobia at his last school got too rough.” After seeing Miles’ deflated expression, he quickly added, “You’re welcome to join us, but it’s mostly boring stuff like classrooms, rules, lockers, and teachers.”_

_“I don’t consider it boring if I get to spend time with you,” Miles said, mentally high fiving himself after seeing Tristan’s flustered face. He didn’t want to screw up what he had with Tristan, so he planned to do the exact opposite of everything he’d done in his previous and failed relationships--like showering him with compliments (he deserved them), walking him to his classes (he enjoyed exchanging details of his day with Tristan), leaving thoughtful notes in his locker, and going on fun dates._

_“You’re unbelievably sweet,” Tristan said, squeezing his shoulder. “I feel like I am straight out of one of those Jane Austen books where the young maiden is wooed by dashing suitors.”_

_“You think I’m dashing?” Miles smirked, leaning against a nearby wall and biting his lip (which he knew was a major turn-on to Tristan)._

_“More like sexy and devastatingly handsome,” teased Tristan, playing along._

_“Sexy?” He sat up. “Me?”_

_Tristan rolled his eyes. “Don’t let your ego get so big. And stop distracting me; I was supposed to meet someone by the name of—“ Tristan checked a slip of paper tucked in his French textbook. “Dominic here about two minutes ago.”_

_Footsteps stopped behind them. “That’s me,” a voice said. They both turned and came face-to-face with a boy wearing a gray beanie and an easygoing smile. He stepped forward, paying attention to Tristan and Tristan only. “I prefer Nic, but whatever you want to call me is fine,” he winked._

_Miles frowned, not liking the way Dominic was flirting with his boyfriend._

_Tristan, oblivious to the boy’s blatant flirting, shook Dominic’s hand. “Hi, welcome to Degrassi,” he started, friendly. “I’m Tristan, and this is Miles—holy crap, I love your jeans. Where did you get them?”_

_Dominic beamed at Tristan. “This little vintage store I found last week. I can take you there…how about this Saturday?”_

_Miles stepped in with a forced smile. “That won’t be necessary. We have a date Saturday.” Dominic, surprised, looked over at Miles. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, feigning friendliness. He held his hand out. “Where are my manners? I’m Miles Hollingsworth, Tristan’s boyfriend.”_

_Dominic seemed mildly disappointed but still rather eager for some reason. He shook Miles’ hand for a brief second. He turned back to Tristan, asking, “So, there are a lot of gay people here?”_

_“Well, yes, there are gay people here, but not anymore than there would be in another public school,” Miles responded._

_“Are you gay?”_

_Miles stiffened as Tristan rushed to explain. “Oh, no, Miles isn’t—he’s…we’re just dating,” Tristan finished. An awkward silence fell upon the group. “I’ll go and get your schedule,” Tristan announced, darting off to the front desk._

_He waited until Tristan was out of earshot to continue. “So, what are you? Bi? Pan? Fluid?” Dominic questioned. Miles stared back blankly. “Oh…you’re one of those.”_

_“One of what?” Miles asked with a steel edge to his voice._

_Dominic held his hands up in surrender and continued. “Straight boys looking to try something new.”_

_Miles crossed his arms. “It’s not like that, and frankly, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”_

_“All right, man, but let me tell you something. Gay boys don’t like that,” Dominic warned as soon as Tristan walked back to them, smiling._

_“Here’s your schedule, Dominic—looks like you have Chemistry first. This way,” he pointed Dominic in the vague direction of the labs before noticing Miles staying back, a white knuckled hand wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag and the other gripping his keys. “Are you coming, Miles?”_

_Miles faked a smile, which he knew Tristan noticed by the way he frowned. “No, I have to go.”_

_Tristan’s face fell even more. “Oh. Okay. Call me?”_

_But Miles was already gone._

\--Present—

            “Well, that guy was an asshole,” Chewy said as soon as Miles was done retelling the story. “So, you’re questioning your already precariously hanging sexuality because some new student that happened to be gay told you Tristan will dump you for him if you don’t scream your sexuality from the rooftops?”

            “Not just dump me, Chewy. Our entire friendship would be ruined because of it. I don’t want to endanger our friendship.”

            Winston thought for a long minute. “Didn’t you already endanger your friendship that night the storm went down? You both took a leap that could’ve ended with your friendship on rocks.”

            Miles considered this. “True.”                      

            Winston continued, on a roll. “And who cares what a faux hipster in too tight jeans says? All that should matter is Tristan, and it sounds like he’s supportive of what you do or don’t pick for your sexuality. Or if you pick at all. He’s a good one, Miles. Don’t let him get away.”

            Miles smiled. “Thanks, Chewy. You always know what to say.”

            Winston popped his collar. “It’s a gift,” he bragged, laughing. “Now, go and get him,” he instructed, handing Miles a hoodie and his keys.

            “Chewy, it has to be at least eleven. He’s probably sleep, and I don’t want to wake his parents or his scary brother.”

            “Miles, you’re wooing the guy. Take risks. Live a little.”

            “If I wake Owen up, I won’t anymore,” he mumbled, but pulled the hoodie on and grabbed the keys. “Wish me luck.”

            “Pretty sure you don’t need it.”

\--

“Tristan?” Miles whispered, chucking another pebble from Mrs. Milligan’s koi pond at the boy’s window. “Are you awake?” There was no answer. Miles tried calling the boy again, but it went straight to voicemail. That left only one other opinion—somehow finding a way onto Tristan’s balcony. He tried jumping and grabbing ahold of something, but that ended up with him sprawled on his back with the flowers and chocolate he bought at the twenty-four hour market crushed and destroyed under his weight. He ended up climbing a tree across from the balcony, praying for his safety, and leaping onto the balcony. He allowed himself to celebrate not falling and breaking something before knocking a bit louder on the balcony window.

            A light inside his room flicked on, and Tristan’s silhouette appeared. “If you’re a robber, please come back in the morning,” his cute, sleepy voice demanded.

            He laughed. “It’s me, Tris.”

            “Miles? What the hell are you doing outside my balcony?” Tristan asked, opening the door so Miles could slip inside. “You are taking the whole forbidden love thing a bit far—“

            “I’m here to woo you. So. Uh. Woo.” Miles actually blushed as he presented the mangled gifts to Tristan (where was his charm when he actually needed it?).

            Tristan stifled a laugh as he took them. “Um, thanks. I was kidding about the whole suitors and wooing thing. Trust me—there are no other wooers to compete with.”

            He smiled. “I want to apologize about earlier today.”

            “It’s cool. Dominic was freaking you out talking about sexuality, and I know you’re still confused and want to take your time. It’s okay,” he reminded him.

            “Tris, you’re amazing,” Miles declared, setting his hands on Tristan’s hips as easily as he did that night. “And supportive.” A kiss on the cheek. “And understanding.” A kiss closer to the mouth. “And patient.” A peck on his surprised lips. “Thanks for being the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.” Miles cradled Tristan’s chin before pressing a brief kiss to his neck.

            It took about 0.5 seconds for Tristan to grab the drawstrings of Miles’ blue hoodie (the same one from that night) and pulled him backwards and on top of him. They fell on Tristan’s bed and began to trade heated kisses and frantic touches.

            Miles pulled back from Tristan’s urgent kisses and wandering hands. “Wait, don’t you want to talk—“

            “Just get down here.”

            “Yes sir.”

            “By the way, I love this hoodie.”

            “I do, too.” And the kissing resumed, this time louder and more passionate. “Oh god,” Miles moaned. “Do that again,” he pleaded.

\--

(If Dominic noticed the hickeys Miles proudly displayed the next day, he didn’t say anything.)

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note my drabbles were written in the summer before Smells like Teen Spirit aired. Thanks for reading!


	3. The Ex from Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Could you do a Triles drabble where Maya finds out about them and gets all bitchy?” (via connor-my-franta)

**The Ex from Hell**

            “Shit,” was the first thing out of Miles’ mouth when he opened the door to find Maya Matlin standing on his doorstep with the hope of rekindling their rocky on-and-off again relationship.

            “I just want to talk, Miles.” Then, she noticed how he stood defensively in front of the door. She put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Are you okay, Miles?”

            He jumped, shrugging her hand off. “Maya…” Three weeks ago, he would’ve been happy to see her at his doorstep. But he had moved on with Tristan. “I don’t think you should be here.”

            Maya frowned. “Why? Is someone here?” Her voice lowered. “Is it Zoe?” she asked angrily.

            Miles rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not Zoe, but I don’t think—“

            “Miles, who’s there—“ Tristan trailed off when he caught a glimpse of Maya behind Miles.

            “What is _he_ doing here?” she demanded, directing the question to Miles.

            “Um, _he_ actually has a name,” came the biting reply from Tristan. “And _he_ remembered calling you five times the other day to apologize and not receiving an answer.”

            “I was—“

            Miles interrupted before it could get any messier. “Maya, um, this isn’t going to be easy, but…” Miles trailed off and held up his hand…which was entwined with Tristan’s.

            Maya blinked once, then twice.

            A loud thump came from within the Hollingsworth Mansion, and the trio turned to see Frankie on the stairs, clearly eavesdropping. Miles raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged her shoulders. “I was going to watch West Drive, but clearly, this is way more interesting,” she offered as an explanation.

\--

            “So, my ex best friend is dating my ex?” Maya asked, sitting across from them. She tried not to stare at their locked hands, but ultimately failed.

            “What a pair we make,” Tristan remarked. “Definitely sounds like the plot of a rom-com.” Miles smiled slightly at that, which only made Maya angrier.

            “Were you ever going to tell me about you two?” Then, she glared at Tristan. “Or was this part of your grand scheme to get back at me for reporting your pedo boyfriend?” She accused.

            “No one is getting back at anyone,” said Miles, standing to make his point. “Maya, can’t you just accept we’re together?”

            “And I’m supposed to believe that we are done?” Maya yelled back, tears streaming down her face. “After all of we’ve been through?”

            “Maya, we were done for a while! Don’t you understand? We were bad for each other! We were never happy! I was never happy.” He grew silent. “But I’m happy now with Tris. And I’m asking you to accept that as a friend.”

Maya scoffed. “Friends?”

“We can still be friends—hell, I’d like to be friends, Maya. Please?” Miles set a hand on her arm.

            Maya shrugged his hand off, mouth twisted into an angry snarl. “I don’t want to be your friend.” Then, she glanced back at Tristan, a betrayed expression on her face. “Or yours.”

\--

            Later that night, Maya’s phone lit up with a new voicemail from Tristan. Desperately, she wanted to ignore it, but curiously won her over.

            “Hey Maya, it’s Tris.” A pause. “I’m assuming you deleted the other voicemails I sent you, so I’ll just sum them up right now. You were right about Mr. Yates. I was hurt and not thinking clearly. I’m sorry for saying what I said.” He cleared his throat. “But I’m in a better place right now. Miles makes me happy. It feels right. And I would like to share some of my newfound happiness with one of my best friends. Think about it, and give me a call.” He stopped as if he wanted to add something. “Bye, Maya.”

            Hesitating, Maya’s finger hovered over the delete button.

            “You can’t stay mad at him forever,” a voice spoke up from the doorway to her room, causing Maya to jump and glare at the intruder.

            “Why are you here?” questioned Maya, rolling over to face her once enemy, then frenemy, and current tentative friend.

            “Zig and I are going to see _Guardians of the Galaxy_.” Zoe answered, opening the door fully and taking a seat on Maya’s bed.

            “Lucky you—your love life isn’t so fucked up that your ex-boyfriend is dating your ex best friend,” Maya sulked.

            “Technically, I dated Miles, and Tris was my best friend at one point,” Zoe remarked. “So, yeah, my ex and my ex best friend are hooking up. And I’m completely fine with it.”

            “Really? Don’t you think it’s completely disrespectful?” Maya inquired furiously.

            Zoe rolled her eyes and flipped her pin-straight hair over her shoulder, prepared to slap Maya with the hard, cold truth. “Maya, get your head out of your ass and think about it. When was the last time you’ve seen Miles or Tristan so happy?” She took Maya’s silence as an invitation to continue. “Don’t ruin their happiness—especially if you truly loved either one of them.” Zoe stood and exited the door, leaving Maya to her thoughts.

            Maya grabbed her phone and pressed the one on speed dial. Immediately, it started to ring. Someone picked up on the second ring. “Maya?” he greeted, almost surprised to hear from her.

            She took a deep breath. “Tristan.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this drabble was not influenced by Season 14 of Degrassi. My goal was not to offend Maya-stans, but answer a question that was on everyone's mind after Thunderstruck: how would Maya react? I kept Maya's reaction very in-character and realistic, but remember: she's no angel like everyone else on the show.


	4. Bro Dates, Bro Kisses?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Miles and Tristan haven’t put a label on their relationship/friendship/partnership/whatever else could fit the uniqueness of these two.

**Bro Dates, Bro Kisses?**

            Zoe closed Miles’ laptop with a smirk. “We need to talk,” she stated, perching delicately on the desk.

            Miles looked up to the sky. “Why me, God?” he muttered before giving Zoe his attention. “What do you need?”

            “It’s more like what _you_ need. You haven’t changed your Facerange status,”Zoe reprimanded, pulling a nail file out of her purse. She began to file her nails.

            Miles looked mildly confused. “What do you mean?”

            Zoe rolled her eyes. “Your relationship status, dumbass. You’re currently listed as single, which you aren’t. You are dating Tristan.”

            “Dating’s such a flux term,” Miles remaindered her. “We’re just...”

            Zoe raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue. “What? Best friends?” she scoffed. “That ship sailed when you two made out that night.”

            “We’re not boyfriends,” Miles stressed, gathering his papers and laptop. Zoe stopped him with her newly sharp nails pressing deep into his shoulder. “He’s too good for me, and I’ll hurt—“

            “Oh, save your manly angst for your poetry slam,” Zoe scoffed. “And Tristan might be good with no labels. But I’m just saying—make an effort to call hanging out something other than bro dates.” Zoe sauntered off, still filing her nails.

            “No one calls them that,” Miles called after her.

\--

            The subject was brought up again when the two were on one of their bro dates at the Hollingsworths. They were channel surfing on the futon, bodies almost touching. There was nothing entertaining on, so the two took it upon themselves to entertain each other with flirty glances and teasing remarks—and finally, kisses.

            Tristan pulled away with a laugh. “So, what is this?”

            Miles sat up, puzzled. “What is what?” He asked, stealing a quick kiss from Tristan, lightly biting his bottom lip causing the other boy to moan.

            “ _This_ ,” Tristan stressed, pecking Miles’ lips again. “Is it a bro kiss?” Tristan teased. “Like a bro date, but in kiss form?”

            Miles covered his head to hide his amused smile. “This isn’t a bro kiss, Tris.” That was the only warning Miles gave before surging forward and capturing his lips. Surprised, Tristan toppled over, half on and half off the futon. Miles took the opportunity and straddled his hips, never breaking the kiss and adding tongue. Tristan snapped out of it and began to kiss back, hands on Miles’ chest. Few seconds later, they pulled apart, their faces flustered and lips reddened.

            Miles grabbed Tristan’s hand. “I’m not sure we’re just bros, Tristan.”

            “I thought you weren’t ready to be boyfriends,” Tristan said. “Which I’m okay with,” he reminded him.

            “I know, but we’re something. We’re more than bros.”

            “What about bros with benefits? I heard that term on a movie somewhere.”

            “No, though, the benefits are appreciated,” he said, chuckling. “We are…Tris and Miles. Miles and Tristan. Together.”

            Tristan smiled, wrapping his arms around Miles’ neck. “I like that.”

\--

            Somewhere in a dark room, a phone lit up, and a manicured hand grabbed it. Zoe smirked when she saw the notification that Miles’ and Tristan’s Facerange statuses were changed. “Finally, those love struck idiots. Now, where were we?” she asked Zig.

            “Season 2 of Orange is the New Black, here we come!” Zig cheered, about to press play on the laptop when someone screamed in the next room over. “What was that?”

            “That would be Maya checking Facerange,” Zoe informed him. She tilted her head when she heard something break. “And that was the snow-globe Miles gave her for Christmas last night.” Another crash. “And cello locket Tristan gave her for her birthday.”

            “She loved that locket,” Zig commented with a grim smile.

            “Well, hell hath no fury like an irrational woman scorn.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drabbles are not connected.


	5. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter results from a prompt from the "30 Days of Triles" event back in July (I think). Propts to amethystbeloved for the thirty day challenge—great idea!

**Together**

**Day 1: Holding Hands**

The groceries escaped Tristan’s limp hold and crashed on the linoleum floor as he stared frozen at the man standing just in front of him.

            “Tristan, it’s good to see you,” Grant spoke. He still sounded the same way—slightly condescending and cold.

            Grant stepped closer, and Tristan unfroze, throwing his hands in front of him in a protective stance. “No!” he shouted as the walls began to close in, and it became harder to breathe. “Get away from me!”

            Grant had the audacity to look confused. “Tristan, I just want to—“

            “You don’t get to be here,” Tristan hissed. “You ruined my life.”

            Grant sneered. “No, Tristan, you did you that when you involved the authorities. Think about it—who actually paid you attention before I came along? Poor Tristan,” he mocked. “No one truly loves you, and no one ever will.”

            Tristan allowed a few tears escape his eyes. “You’re wrong,” he rasped.

            Grant opened his mouth to retaliate when someone put a large hand on his shoulder.

            “Is there a problem here?” Dallas glared at him with his dark, intimidating eyes, shifting his gaze between Tristan and Grant. His girlfriend stood behind him, phone in hand.

            “Please call the police,” he managed, turning his back on the man. Grant attempted to follow, but Dallas pushed him back.

            Tristan got to the end of the aisle before the dam containing all of the pent up emotions broke. He slid down to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees as he buried his head into them.

            A figure crouched in front of him. “Tris,” Miles whispered.

            Tristan collapsed into Miles’ opened his arms. He cried as the brunet comforted him, rubbing his back and whispering, “It’s going to be okay, Tris.”

\--

            As the police collected Tristan’s statement, Miles stood beside him.

            The officer’s pen scribbled as his pan as he took notes. “Don’t worry, Mr. Milligan—the investigation on Grant Yates is resumed with renewed interest. But you will need to come downtown with your parents to sign the restraining order against him.”

            Tristan nodded. “Thank you, Officer,” he whispered.

            The officer left his card with Tristan, thanked Dallas for stepping in, and departed with Grant in his backseat.

            “You all right?” inquired Dallas.

            Tristan nodded. “Thank you, Dallas.”

            “You’re like family,” Dallas stated with a sad smile. “And family protect each other.” The two boys were briefly lost in a memory of Cam. He patted Tristan on the shoulder. “Take care, Tristan.” He linked hands with Alli and started to walk away. As he passed Miles, Dallas caught Miles’ eye and mouthed, “Take care of him.”

            Miles surreptitiously nodded back and mouthed back, “I will.”

            Finally alone, Tristan relaxed a bit. He gestured towards the destroyed groceries on the ground with a broken laugh. “Sorry I ruined our anniversary dinner.”

            “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do, Tris,” Miles kissed Tristan’s hand softly. “Tristan, what did he say to you?”

            Tristan smiled wobbly. “I didn’t believe him.”

            Miles hesitated. “Tris?”

            “He told me no one will ever love me,” admitted Tristan. “And no one ever did. I know it’s not true, but it still stung. God, I can’t believe how he just manipulated me like that.”

            Miles brushed a knuckle over Tristan’s cheek. “I hate he did that to you.”

            Tristan was silent before a moment before speaking up. “Remember that night a year ago? When we kissed?” Miles nodded, urging him to continue. “You said you learned that no one will truly love you.”

            Miles hung his head. “It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

            “No, I’m glad you said that. That helped me realize what he was.” He shuddered. “I might have to go to court and testify against him, Miles. I’m terrified...Zoe’s trial made me realize the world isn’t always fair and easy.”

            Miles reached for Tristan’s hand. “And I will be here. We will make it through this…together. I promise—us against the world.”

            “Us against the world,” Tristan repeated, grasping Miles’ hand with a strong squeeze.

\--


	6. Thank God for Football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt taken from day two of the "30 Days of Triles".

**Thank God for Football**

**Day Two: Cuddling Somewhere**

            Ever since he was a little boy, Tristan hated football. He hated the cold weather associated with it, he hated the jocks, and he hated how the audience really got into it. But going to his brother’s football with Miles in tow made football about 40% more bearable.

            Except. It. Was. Fucking. Cold, Tristan thought as he shivered in two sweaters, one of his brother’s old letterman jackets, a scarf, and Miles’ hat.

            Miles, on the other hand, was used to the weather for this father was an avid football fan and dragged the family to many games. While Miles didn’t want to play the sport, he begrudgingly accepted the sport when interesting players were involved. And the players of Smithdale University were interesting indeed.

            Not wanting to break his boyfriend’s attention, Tristan began to shuffle his frozen feet for warmth. Suddenly, the team scored, and the crowd rose to its’ feet to cheer. Tristan groaned and pulled himself up to cheer. But when he finally did, the crowd was already seated and yelling at him to sit down so they could see.    

            After Tristan was finally seated again, Miles greeted him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you okay?” Miles asked with a strange combination of humor and concern.

            “I’m fine,” he lied through his clattering teeth.

            “No, you’re not. In fact, I think you’re cold,” Miles touched the tip of Tristan’s nippy nose.

            “I’m not,” Tristan muttered, slightly embarrassed.

            Miles shook his head. “No, I think you are, but you’re too embarrassed to ask for help.”

            “…maybe I am, but what would you do? You need your jackets as much as I do,” Tristan pointed out.

            “True, but I can do this.” Miles pulled Tristan closer until they were basically spooning on the metal bench. He wrapped his surprisingly warm arms about Tristan. “Better?” he whispered into Tristan’s ear.

            Tristan shivered from Miles’ proximity. “Y-yeah, thanks,” he stammered, silently thanking not only God but Jesus for football.

            With any other couple, it would’ve looked weird to cuddle at a football game. But for Tristan and Miles, it was a good weird.

\--


	7. Well, Damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt taken from day three of "30 Days of Triles".

**Well, Damn**

**Day 3: Gaming and/or watching a movie**

            One of the biggest mistakes Miles had made in his lifetime was underestimating Tristan. The boy hadn’t cease to amaze him (in more ways than one, if you catch his drift), but this topped everything (okay, well, maybe not everything—Miles’ seventeenth birthday present was all kinds of amazing).

            It was a rather dull Sunday evening, and he, Winston, and Tristan were hanging out in his room. While Tristan practiced his lines, he and Winston were replaying the original Mass Effect, but much to their annoyance, they couldn’t complete a particular mission.          

            “Why can’t we get past this? We did it before!” Winston exclaimed, throwing his controller angrily.

            “I don’t know, maybe we’re not—“

            “Your strategy is flawed,” Tristan interjected, calmly turning the page of his play.

            Miles and Chewy turned to Tristan. “What do you mean our strategy is flawed?”

            “You need to attack this—never mind, just hand me the controller,” Tristan said, setting his book aside and reaching for Winston’s discarded controller.

            Winston gave Tristan a dubious expression, and Miles began to warn his boyfriend. “Tris, this isn’t an easy—“ Miles’ and Chewy’s jaws dropped as they observed Tristan effortlessly navigating through the game, his nimble fingers pressing buttons with a mind-blowingly speed. Within a few minutes, the mission was successfully completed.

            “H-how did you…?” Winston trailed off, eyes wide.

Miles just stared at him, with admiration and love in his eyes. “Well, damn,” he mumbled.

            Seeing their awed and confused expressions, Tristan rushed to explain. “My brother and I used to play this game a lot. It was one of the only ways we got along. I can’t believe I actually remembered that,” he laughed cheekily. “This mission really wasn’t _that_ hard, guys,” he smirked, toying with the controller.

            “Well, _that_ was hot,” stated Miles bluntly, causing Tristan to blush and Chewy to groan.

            “Oh dear god, please don’t make out,” he begged, burying his head into a nearby pillow. “Goddamnit, Miles, keep it in your pants!”

           


	8. Camping is Only Fun when You’re Secretly Dating, and No One Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles plans a romantic camping trip for his and Tristan’s secret sixth month anniversary. Unfortunately, it gets around. Get ready for the least romantic weekend ever.

Miles walked behind Tristan and put his hands over the other boy’s eyes. “Guess who?”

            Tristan removed his hands and turned around to greet a smiling Miles. He feigned disappointment. “Oh, I was expecting 1994 Leonardo DiCaprio, but I guess you’ll do,” he sighed.

            “Ha ha, very funny. I have a surprise for you.” He paused, putting his hand on Tristan’s arm. “How do you feel about camping?”

            “Well, my past experiences with camping include failed family trips and summers at fat camp, so I guess it depends.”

            “What about the two of us in a cabin, far away from here?” Miles suggested with a nervous smile and a hopeful look in his eye.

            Tristan gasped, before recovering. “Does this have anything to do with our sixth month anniversary?” When Miles smiled openly, he gasped and hit him on the shoulder. “Miles Hollingsworth III, you are a secret sap!”

            He had used the smile reserved for Tristan and Tristan only. “Always have been. So, are you available this weekend? Specifically right after school tomorrow?”

            Tristan nodded. “I’d have to make up a lame lie for my parents, but I’m sure they’re too busy to even care.”

“They’re still arguing?”

            “It’s getting worse,” Tristan confirmed. “But enough about my parents—are yours okay with this?”

            Miles stilled. “My parents don’t know about the cabin,” he admitted. “My grandmother secretly passed it down to me. And they think I’m spending the weekend at Chewy’s, like the normal son of a soon-to-be mayor would,” he scoffed at the last statement.

Tristan patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m glad we’re getting away this weekend. Just the two of us, a quiet forest, and no drama.”

            “I can’t wait,” he said as they rounded a corner. Unfortunately, the two missed an eavesdropping Frankie a few feet away with a devious look in her eye.

\--

            “No.” Miles crossed his arms.

            Frankie mirrored his stance. “Yes.”

            “No.”

            “You owe me.”

            “For?”

            “Last week—Dad almost caught you and Tristan making out, and I saved your ass. And you said, and I quote: ‘I owe you.’ End quote.”

            Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hand. “Frankie, this weekend isn’t a random getaway. It’s our sixth month anniversary. I have things planned for Tristan that are kind of private.”

            “We will stay out for your way—“

            “ _We_?” Miles questioned.

            “Chewy and I.”

            “Frankie—“

            “We need some alone time, and that cabin you inherited from Grandma is huge. You won’t even notice us especially with what you guys have planned for this weekend!” Frankie briefly reveled in how red Miles’s ears turned. “Please, Miles, please!”

            Miles sighed. “Fine.” When Frankie cheered, he went on. “On one condition--you have to cover for me—no questions or deals—whenever I’m with Tristan for the next two months.”

            “Done.”

            “And—“

            Frankie groaned in anticipation. “What else could you want?”

            “You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone else. If it gets out—“

            “It won’t get out! Who else would find out?” Frankie scoffed.

\--

            Apparently, the three people Miles did not want to find out found out.

It was a deliciously simple setup, executed almost flawlessly. It started when Frankie was explaining to Zoe why she couldn’t attend the mandatory first annual Power Cheer sleepover.

            “I told you—it’s a family bonding camping trip,” Frankie lied smoothly.

            “Can’t you get out of it?” Zoe asked out of the corner of her mouth as she watched the squad practice simultaneous back tucks. “I saw that, Jack. Get your head into the game, or I will make you run until you throw up,” Zoe threatened calmly.

            Frankie shook her head. “My parents want all of us there. Something about getting closer as a family or some bullshit like that,” she rolled her eyes. Briefly, she allowed herself to note how believable that lie was. “Frankly, I think they’re going to bail for some lame political party at the last second, so it will just be and my annoying brothers.”

            Zoe diverted her attention to her phone and started typing. “I see. Well, there’s no other solution except to move the sleepover to your cabin.”

            Frankie’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Where did you get that—“

            “Well, if your parents are bailing for a party and leaving you holed in up in a big empty cabin, I don’t see why the girls can’t have a little party for themselves.”

            “Zoe, I don’t think my parents will let you come—“

            Zoe stopped texting and fixed Frankie with a glare worthy of Holly J. Sinclair. “So, we’ll drive up there when your parents are gone,” Zoe dismissed the problem with a flick of her wrist. Then, she paused thoughtfully. “Hey, do you mind if I invite Zig?”

            “ _Zig?!_ ” Frankie’s voice increased a few octaves.

            “Uh, yeah, duh. I want to spend more time with him. But,” Zoe sighed, “he won’t go anywhere without his guard dog, Maya. It’s like a twisted buy one, get one free thing. But regardless, Maya should get along swimmingly with Miles, don’t you think?” Zoe hummed, toying with the end of her flawless ponytail.

            “Zoe, we can’t,” Frankie sputtered, torn between telling Zoe and Miles yelling at her, and not telling Zoe and Zoe yelling at her.

            Zoe resumed texting.  “Hmm, you mean _you_ can’t? What’s the big deal about a tiny party/sleepover? You should get used to it—after all, when I graduate, there’s a strong chance you will be my successor.”

            Frankie stopped thinking. “Really?” she asked in disbelief. She put a hand to her chest, touched. “Oh, that’s so nice, Zoe—“

            Zoe held up a manicured hand. “But I could always hand it off to,” Zoe’s eyes scanned the exhausted girls in front of them, “that weirdly pretty girl with the pink hair.” Lola, the weirdly pretty girl with the pink hair, perked up. “Unless…”

            Frankie hesitated. She couldn’t let Zoe unknowingly wreck Tristan’s and Miles’ special weekend (she was kind of already doing that by inviting herself and Winston along). But… _captain_ … “Fine—“ Frankie already regretted the words flying out of her mouth.

            “Fantastic; we’re on for this Friday. Text me the directions later,” Zoe commanded. When Frankie opened her mouth to rebut, Zoe screamed. “Damn it, Jack! How do you expect to be on a Varsity Power Cheer team if you can’t stick a stupid back tuck! Go outside and run until you throw up, or I stop you. Whichever comes first.” Then, she noticed a dazed Frankie next to her. “Uh, Frankie?”

Frankie’s head snapped up.

Zoe rolled her eyes, as if she were dealing with a baby. “Go and join the rest of the team,” she informed her in a childish voice.

            Frankie groaned, but ran out onto the mats next to her fellow teammates. She felt like purposely slamming her head against the floor. Oh, her brother was going to kill her.

\--

            “What the hell do you mean you accidently invited a small party here?” Miles shouted at Frankie.

            She winced. “It was an accident! And technically, it was all Zoe’s fault—“

            “Oh, like that makes it better!”

            The two siblings continued to argue, causing Winston and Tristan to exchange exasperated glances.

            “Guys,” Winston spoke up, attempting to calm the two fighting siblings (thank god it hadn’t escalated into physical fighting…yet). “What happened?”

            Frankie glared at her brother. “I was supposed to attend this sleepover, but obviously, I was going to be here. So, I made up a lie about going away for family bonding. Then, it snowballed from there!” she said, throwing her hands up fruitlessly.

            “How did a party get brought up?”

            “I don’t know! She invited herself, the whole cheerleading team, and…some others,” she bit her fingernail nervously at the end of her statement.

            Miles scoffed, crossing his arms. “So, basically, she manipulated you like a child.”

            Frankie narrowed her eyes. “Hey! She’s not an easy person to be around. You should know—you dated her.”

            Tristan winced. “Can we not mention that?”

            Miles shot a brief apologetic look at Tristan before glaring at Frankie. “Frankie, you promised it wouldn’t get out.”

            “I know, and I suck.” Then, she paused. “I’m sorry for ruining your special weekend,” she spoke, directing her apology mostly towards Tristan as she avoided her brother’s angry eyes.

            “Who else is coming?” Winston asked, curious.

            “Um…” Frankie responded nervously.

             “ _Who_?” Miles repeated, alarmed.

            Frankie took a deep breath. “Maya and Zig,” she blurted out before squeezing her eyes shut.

            Miles put his head in his hands, and Tristan attempted to comfort him. “Well, they are only going to be here tonight, right?” Tristan asked.

            “I guess,” Frankie answered, uncertain.

            “Well, the party will go on. I’ll hide in the loft since I’m not supposed to be here, and you’ll have to make up an excuse for your absent brother and Winston, but you can pull it off.”

            “Really, you think so?” Frankie said.

            Miles lifted his head. “Are you serious? You’re not going to hide in the loft for hours.”

            “If I don’t, they will know about us,” Tristan said.

“Let them know,” he blurted without hesitation, causing Tristan to blush.

Chewy spoke up, always the voice of reason. “While that is cute, how would we have come up here? It’s not like you take a taxi up here or something.”

Frankie tapped her chin, thoughtful. “So, you guys come in when everyone else comes in, and everyone will think you carpooled up here. Come on, this will work for just one night!”

Miles threaded his fingers through Tristan’s. “Fine. But we want the big bedroom,” he demanded with a classic look in his eye. He grabbed Tristan’s hand. “We’ll need it tonight,” he winked. Tristan stifled his laughter as Frankie and Winston openly gaped like two catfishes.

“No way! Chewy and I want the big bedroom!” Frankie looked two seconds away from stomping her foot like a spoiled little girl.

Chewy set a hand on her shoulder. “Frank, we should let them have it,” he whispered. “It’s their anniversary, and you kind of messed it up.”

Frankie deflated when she realized her boyfriend was right. “Fine,” she sighed sullenly. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

\--

            “Wait,” Tristan pulled away from Miles, breathing strained.

            Miles raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to stop? We only have a few minutes until the crowd gets here.”

            “I know,” Tristan said, suddenly distracted as he straightened Miles’ tie. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.” He paused. “Will you be okay if they find out?”

            Miles was silent, contemplative. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I said so earlier because…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay you don’t know,” Tristan reminded with a soft kiss on the cheek.

            “But I know if they find out,” he grabbed Tristan’s hand, “there’s no going back.”

            “I know,” Tristan responded immediately. “I’m here for you.”

            “Always,” Miles replied. “I’m sorry our sixth month anniversary isn’t as spectacular as I promised.”

“Hey, if I’m with you, I’m happy,” Tristan said, leaning in when someone knocked on the door.

            “Guys, they’re driving up,” Frankie shouted through the door.

Miles groaned and sat up fully. He got off of the bed and offered Tristan a thin smile. “Showtime.”

\--

            Zoe had one thing right—it was an intimate social gathering rather than a wild party. Some of the cheerleaders were brave enough to stand outside by the lake where mosquitos ate them for dinner. But most stayed inside, watching TV or chatting quietly. An hour after the party had begun, Maya and Zig drove up to the cabin in Katie’s beat-up Ford Explorer.

            Zig slammed the door and shoved his hands into his black jeans. “So, what are you going to do here?” he asked genuinely. When Maya gave him a confused expression, he rushed to explain. “I mean, I have an agenda: meet up with Zoe, maybe flirt a little.” Maya glared at him, and Zig slightly misinterpreted it as protection for her newly found BFF. “If that’s completely comfortable with her…and you.”

            Maya’s head snapped up. “Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?” she blurted, cheeks burning red. “And besides, I’m here to talk to Miles.”

            Zig scoffed. “Fine.”

            “Fine. Have fun with Zoe,” Maya mumbled as she pushed the door open and revealed the interior of the cabin and its’ occupants. The two slowly ventured in, feeling foreign around the fancy furniture.

            “I feel like I’m going to break something,” Maya admitted.

            “Me too. Hey, maybe it won’t be someone’s face,” Zig joked and squeezed Maya’s hand.

            Maya gulped and released his hand, clearing her throat awkwardly. “Have you seen Miles?” Maya asked as her eyes searched for the brunet.

            Zig tried not to voice his disappointment. “Who cares? Have you seen any food?” Zig questioned. His eyes narrowed. “No offense, but this is the lamest party ever.”

            “First of all,” Zoe informed, coming up from behind them. They whirled around to meet the gorgeous captain. “It’s not a party; it’s an intimate social gathering. Second of all, it isn’t lame— _I’m_ here,” Zoe smirked and batted her eyelashes at Zig. “Hi, Zig,” she cooed.

            Maya rolled her eyes. “Speaking of being here, where’s Miles? He’s kind of the reason I came here.”

            “Aww, you didn’t come with hang out with your bestest friend?” Zig teased, his voice increasing a few octaves.

            “Nice voice, Novak,” Miles snorted, appearing in front of them with a bottle of Coke in his hand.

Maya perked up, and Zig mentally gagged and made a face. “Nice to see you, too, Hollingsworth,” he greeted his former enemy, appraising him with cool eyes. Miles did the same.

            “Oh my god, guys--stop with the macho act,” Zoe said. “Be lovers, not fighters.”

            Miles scoffed, thinking _they just don’t know_ when he spotted Tristan’s familiar platinum head by the fireplace. His smile dripped off of his face when he saw a handsome boy standing next to him, laughing. He grasped Zoe’s forearm and turned her in their direction. “Who is that?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but his other grip on his Coke tightened not noticeably.

            Zoe narrowed her eyes before her face glowed with recognition. “That, my friends, is Max,” she announced his name with a grand spread of her arms and a suggestive wink. “He was my costar from _West Drive_.”

            “Your very _attractive_ costar from _West Drive_ ,” Maya noted, eyes sweeping over Max appreciatively. “So, was it like the _Bachelorette_ over there? Random attractive guys walking around?”

            Zoe nodded. “And shirtless—it was practically a requirement.” She turned to Zig and Miles with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “You know, you guys could learn from Max—he knows how to be a real gentleman; unless it’s in the bedroom,” she winked before leaving to mingle.

            “That’s because he has someone to talk to at his party,” Zig shouted after her. He glanced at Maya and Miles awkwardly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and uh, do some things.” Then, he took off in the same direction Zoe left.

            Maya cleared her throat and began to talk. “Miles, I want to talk…about us.”

            “Uh-huh,” murmured Miles as he strained to hear whatever Max was saying. Apparently, he had just said something hilarious because Tristan had thrown his head back and laughed, causing Miles’ heart to sink.

            “I think I overreacted about the whole Zoe thing. Can we start over?” Maya asked hopefully.

            “Um, excuse me,” Miles mumbled, crossing the hardwood floors and leaving behind a confused and hurt Maya.

\--

            “And then, Stephen said, ‘If I don’t get the role, I quit!’ And he quit!” Max finished, chuckling at the end.

            Tristan laughed so hard, tears leaked out of his eyes. “Wait, let me get this straight: he quit the award-winning Smithdale Theatre Company just because he didn’t get the main role in one tiny performance?”

            “In his defense, he was a far better actor than the other guy,” Max encountered, leaning forward to rest his hand on the other boy’s shoulder.

            Tristan looked at the end, conflicted. “Max, I’m—“

            “Having a great time, too,” Max finished, beaming. “I just feel like I can be so open with you, you know?”

            Tristan nervously laughed. “Funny, you should say that. Max, I have—“

            Max’s hand was ripped away from his shoulder, and Tristan jumped as a livid Miles appeared beside them.

“Get your hand off of him,” Miles threatened through gritted teeth. A terrified Tristan noticed this was the angriest he had ever seen the brunet.

Max raised an eyebrow before glancing nervously at Tristan. “Uh, Tristan, do you know this dude?” he side-eyed Miles skeptically.

Tristan ignored Max and gripped Miles’ shoulder instead. “Miles, you’re making a scene,” he whispered, attempting to calm him down.

Miles’ shoulders released some tension and visually relaxed under Tristan’s touch. He leaned against the platinum boy.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Tristan whispered, carrying Miles across the cabin and towards the door, ignoring the pairs of curious eyes that followed their every movement. They didn’t stop walking until they found a bench by the dock that oversaw the crystal blue lake the Hollingsworths owned. Tristan gently pushed Miles down onto the bench and stood with his arms crossed, avoiding the brunet’s eyes.

“You’re mad at me,” Miles observed quietly.

Tristan sighed. “I’m not exactly happy with you either.”

“Disappointed? Can’t say I haven’t heard that before,” Miles glanced at his hands.

“No.” Tristan uncrossed his arms and grasped one of Miles’ free hands. “Don’t compare me to them,” he let the statement ring in the air for a few moments as they stared at each other in silence.

“I ruined our anniversary,” Miles murmured.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Tristan shrugged.

            Miles chuckled humorlessly. “That’s because there’s no way out of here. I told you, Tris; people run for the hills when they get to know me.”

            “Except for the fact that I’ve seen every side of you. I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly, Miles. That doesn’t change how I feel about you. I don’t know what’s causing this self-hate, Miles, but—“

            “I’m not good enough for you, Tris!” Miles shouted, causing the other boy to jump. The brunet put his head in his hands, shaking before abruptly sitting up. “I can’t hold your hand in public!” He gestured towards their intertwined hands. “I can’t talk with you about something you love!” He drew himself in, becoming smaller and smaller. “And I’m worthless.”

            Tristan quickly moved to sit next to him, grabbed Miles’ other hand, and stared intensely into the brunet’s green eyes. “I don’t care what your father says or does, don’t you ever think you’re worthless. There are lists of people that genuinely love and care for you—including me.”

            “Even after I hurt you?” Miles questioned, glancing downward.

            Tristan grabbed his chin gently and pulled his head up to rest his forehead on the other boy’s. “We all make mistakes,” he ghosted against the other boy’s lips.

            “Am I forgiven?”

            Instead of answering, Tristan kissed him. The two melted into each other, and Miles wrapped his arms around Tristan’s waist in an effort to bring Tristan closer—if that was even possible. The kiss eventually lulled to a simple brush of lips, and the two pulled apart with identical smiles.

            “Now what?” a voice behind them asked, and they both jumped and whirled around to find Zig watching them with an expression that was both curious and mildly disturbed.

            Miles glared at the raven-haired boy as Tristan jumped to his feet. “Zig—“

            Zig held up his hands and raised both of his eyebrows. “None of my business, uh, dudes,” he said awkwardly, still staring at them as if Ashton Kutcher would pop out of nowhere and scream, “YOU JUST GOT PUNK’D!”

            “Zig,” Tristan started again.

            “I’ll keep your secret, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Zig lowered his hands and put them in his pockets, looking anywhere but at Miles and Tristan.

            Miles stifled a chuckle and stood up. He grasped Tristan’s hand and smiled. “No, don’t,” he said, not breaking their gaze. It was worth seeing the blinding smile break out around Tristan’s face.

            Zig coughed, backing away slowly. “I’m just going to, uh, go. Right.”

            Tristan waited until Zig was out of earshot to break the silence. “Aren’t you worried he’s going to tell everyone?”

            Miles brought Tristan’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it lightly. “I want the world to know I’m dating the most incredible person in the world.”

            Tristan blushed, “I don’t think Zig will tell them that,” he admitted with a shaky laugh.

            Miles laughed wholeheartedly and began to walk in the direction of the cabin, swinging their intertwined hands. “Well, let’s go and tell them ourselves…starting with Max.”

            Tristan’s laugh echoed throughout the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began this drabble in the summer, so this fic isn’t plot compliant with season 14 and especially the following:  
> 1\. Triles coming out publicly  
> 2\. The whole oomfchat/Frankie quitting Power Cheer scandal.


End file.
